


if i keep my eyes closed, he looks just like you

by primrosee



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Non-Graphic Sex, Unrequited Love, everyone is at least a little bit awful, except for jane she didn't do shit, i'm still the real slim shady kids, remember that one happy fic i wrote not long ago?, well that's over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primrosee/pseuds/primrosee
Summary: You never claimed to be a saint.or: in which everyone is awful, at least a little bit, except for jane. because Character Flaws™





	if i keep my eyes closed, he looks just like you

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i haven't written anything in a while, i've been working on deviantart stuff  
> but halsey came out with a new song and y'all know i had to turn that shit into a johndave fic  
> i also need to reaffirm my place as the johndave goddess, i'm still the real slim shady

You start dating your best friend’s brother in ninth grade.

He’s a twelfth grader with an orange corvette, a nose piercing, and a nasty smoking habit that he just can’t seem to kick. He wants to go to college for robotics, but he’s an incredible artist who works part-time for a tattoo shop. For your three month anniversary, he gets a tattoo of a blue J on his left bicep for you, and you smile nervously, shift your feet, and thank him—because what else are you supposed to say when someone gets a tattoo dedicated to you? He frowns and pointedly states, “You don’t like it.”

“No, no! I love it, seriously,” you don’t. “It’s awesome. Did you do it yourself?”

He shakes his head, tells you he had his co-worker and half-sister Rose do it for him. You lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek for it, but when you catch a quick glance of Dave in your peripheral vision, holding hands with _Karkat Vantas_ , you grab him roughly by the face and press your lips to his with all of the force you can muster. He always closes his eyes when you kiss him. You never do. The kiss stops Dave in his tracks and your lip quirks up, a quick reminder, “you could’ve had me.”

He turns away to listen to Karkat babble, and you think you caught the sight of a barely-there frown, but you can’t be sure.

;;

In tenth grade, you lose your virginity. Your dad keeps giving you spiels about not having sex until you marry the right girl, even though you aren’t exactly interested in girls, anyway. On your one-month anniversary, Dirk sneaks into your bedroom at one in the morning to give you a heart-shaped ring. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, and you don’t stop. He keeps his hand shoved firmly over your mouth to muffle your screams, which ends up being a positive thing, because you breathe a high, squeaky, “Dave!” when you climax, but behind his hand it sounds like his name.

You avoid him in the halls for next few days and leave the ring he got you balanced on your nightstand. If it weren’t a ring, you’d claim that it was judging you. _You don’t love him,_ the shiny diamond taunts. _You’re playing him._

;;

It’s hard to avoid Dave Strider, your ex-best friend and former crush, when his locker is right next to yours and you’re dating his brother. Karkat is always with him, so he usually ignores you, but he’s alone today. “Karkat broke up with me,” he says for no reason at all, and you look at him through the slits in your lockers. “You must be a happy fucking camper.”

“Your brother fucked me,” you respond, point-blank. He looks back at you. You think, at least, but it’s almost impossible to tell behind those shades. “When I climaxed I called him Dave, but he couldn’t tell because his hand was over my mouth.”

He slams his locker shut, then slams yours against the other lockers and out of the way, so you’re face-to-face. You can feel his breath on your face. It smells like cigarettes. Last you knew, Dave didn’t smoke—but maybe he’s stressed enough that he is. Or maybe it’s because he isn’t with Karkat anymore—Karkat always hated it when he smoked. “I fucking hate you,” he hisses through closed teeth, and though he doesn’t specify why, you already know. “Break up with him.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” is your immediate give-back. You’re acting like a two-year-old and you know it, but you could care less. “I love him.”

Neither of you believe that. Dave can only reply with a noise akin to a growl, and then his lips are on yours, pushing and pressing hard enough to draw blood. You return the kiss with vigor, and he lifts you by your thighs, slams you against the lockers. You’re going to have marks on your thighs from where his hands are wrapped around them, anchoring the two of you together, but you could care less. You’ll find some bullshit excuse to feed Dirk, and he’ll believe you. You’re dazed when Dave pulls away, finally; your head spins, and you think your lips are bleeding. “Bathroom. Now.”

“No,” you say, pushing him away from you and dropping to the ground to regain your footing even though your head is still spinning and your lips are swollen and your thighs ache. “You had a chance. You lost it.”

but he never really did—and you’ll never tell him that.

;;

You know something is off when Dirk starts covering up the tattoo he got for you, especially because it’s the middle of a sticky Texas summer and no one in their right mind would wear anything but a tanktop. You know something is off when Dirk doesn’t close his eyes to kiss you, when his moans during sex are overplayed and robotic. You know something is off when he comes sneaks in through your window one night with a smudged red lipstick stain on his neck.

“Who is she?” You find yourself asking, post-coitus.

“Jane Crocker,” he responds shamelessly. Your stomach turns. You want to throw up, but you can’t find the will to do so. “I knew you were cheating on me.”

You want to tell him that you wouldn’t, never had and never would, but that just wouldn’t be the truth. Instead, you shove him out of your bed and turn your back to him, listening with tears in your eyes as he pulls his pants on and buckles his belt.

;;

You don’t fall into a depressive state, or anything stupid like that. Dirk moves away to go to college, Jane Crocker goes with him, and that’s that. You eleventh grade year starts off without a hitch, until you’re being slammed into a locker by Karkat Vantas. “You’re the reason Dave broke up with me,” he growls, gritting his teeth. “What’s your problem, anyway? He didn’t want you then and he doesn’t want you now. What don’t you understand about that?”

You feel like your lungs are collapsing, but you still have the breath to respond, “He obviously didn’t want you either, douchebag.”

Karkat knees you in the groin, and moves on down the hallway. You get detention for two weeks when a teacher finds you twenty minutes later, just sitting in the hallway, absolutely dumbfounded by what just happened. Also, in pain, but fairly dumbfounded as well. You don’t have the boy, you have detention, you can’t defeat your villain, and you won’t get a happy ending.

because this is the real world, and in the real world, there are no happy endings.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna try and get back into writing, but i doubt anyone misses my shitty fanfics/writing anyway lmao  
> remember that one time i wrote fluff? well that's fucking over  
> also pls don't complain about "dirk is gay um?? he can't date a girl you fucking scummy cunt?" idc because i love dirkjane and your opinion will not move me on that
> 
> thanks for reading!!! <3


End file.
